


Whither Thou Goest

by blankety blank (doll_revolution)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: First Times, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 08:15:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doll_revolution/pseuds/blankety%20blank
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An oddly amorphous tale of discovery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whither Thou Goest

## Wither Thou Goest

by Blankety

Pet Fly and Paramount own these characters, and I do not. Make of that what you wish.  


As always, for Aly. Who, you might wish to know, has a *really* sharp, pointy stick that she will poke you with, over and over, until you write again.  
::blankety cowers away, clutching her bloody side and whimpering::

Oh! A special 'thank you' to Zanz, who found all the words I forgot to put in.

* * *

**SEPTEMBER**  
Jim Ellison looked dubiously at the red rubber creature attached to the string of multi-colored beads. "All I'm saying, Chief, is I don't see what a lobster has to do with a football game." 

From under the futon came a long-suffering sigh. "For the last time, it's a _crawfish_ , not a lobster." 

"Not really seeing a difference here." 

There was a 'thump' and muffled "Ow!" as Blair Sandburg began slithering backwards, dragging himself out from under his bed. "The difference, Jim, is that a lobster is a large crustacean found off the coast of, say, Maine, while the crawfish is a _small_ crustacean found in the swamps of Louisiana." 

"Either way, I've got one on a necklace. A really, really ugly necklace." Jim shook the crawfish and watched its rubber claws flop about with a morbid fascination. 

Blair stood up and rolled his eyes. "And that's not a necklace, those are Mardi Gras beads." 

Jim stared in horror at the dust bunnies trapped in Blair's hair. "Jesus God, Sandburg! You haven't swept under there since you moved in, have you?" 

Blair ran his hands through his hair, knocking the dust bunnies to the floor. "Well, it's not as if I spend a lot of time there." His lips twitched at the expression on Jim's face. "Easy there, Heloise. I promise, I'll sweep when we get back from the party." 

"About this party, Chief. . ." 

Blair pointed a finger at Jim. "Oh, no, man! You are _not_ backing out! You promised you'd go with me! And anyway, it's a football party, should be right up your alley." 

"Football, sure, but this necklace thing?" 

Blair closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Jim. I've explained this. Ed is my friend. Ed is from New Orleans. Gary, my other friend, is from Pittsburgh. And since the Saints are playing the Steelers, they're having a sort of 'us versus them' football party." 

"I take it this means we're rooting for the Saints?" Jim said, twirling the necklace around his finger. 

"Yup." Blair shook out the shirt he had found under his bed. "This doesn't look that bad, does it?" 

Jim looked at the green shirt with the Tabasco logo and the words 'Cajuns like it Spicy' printed across the chest, eyeing it with distaste. "I'm taking the Fifth on that one, Chief." 

Blair stuck out his tongue, and began changing into the shirt. Jim had a sudden thought. "Hey! If I root for the Steelers, I don't have to wear the necklace, do I?" 

Blair smoothed the shirt over his chest and sniffed the armpits. "Musty." He looked over at Jim. "Do what you want, man, but when you have to drink the crappy beer, don't blame me." 

"Crappy beer?" 

"Yeah. You have to drink beer from the state of the team you're rooting for. So the Saints guys get Abita, Dixie, Voodoo." 

Jim perked up. "Abita? You mean, like Abita Turbodog?' 

Blair nodded. Jim rubbed his hands together. Then he looked at Blair with narrowed eyes. "What do the Steelers fans get?" 

Blair wrinkled his nose. "Rolling Rock." 

Jim dropped the necklace over his head. "Go, Saints!" Blair just laughed. 

**OCTOBER**  
Jim stood still, his arms stretched out from his sides. "Sandburg, you know the weirdest people." 

Blair snorted. "Says the guy with a friend called 'Sneaks'." He continued wrapping blue yarn around Jim's body. 

Jim shrugged, conceding the point. Then he pointed a finger at Blair. "But Sneaks doesn't throw weird parties!" 

Blair slapped Jim on the chest. "Stop moving, or I'll never finish! And what the hell is so weird about a Halloween party?" 

Jim stretched his arms back out. "Nothing's weird about a Halloween party, it's the _theme_ that's weird! What kind of people say you have to come dressed as a song?" 

"Fun people. Interesting people. People with good beer." 

"Good beer isn't everything." 

Blair dropped the ball of yarn and backed away from Jim, making the sign of the cross. Jim started laughing. "Yeah, yeah, it's heresy, I know. Are you done yet?" 

Blair tilted his head. "I think so. Take a look; what do you think?" 

Jim walked over to the mirror. Blue jeans, blue shirt, blue string. "It looks like I walked through a blue spider web." 

Blair crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "Well, then you'd be 'Tangled Up in Blue', wouldn't you?" 

Jim rolled his eyes, and looked at himself in the mirror again. "Well, I guess it's not that bad. I can move around, and at least I didn't have to wear make-up." He looked over at Blair, who was wearing white jeans, a white t-shirt, and white face paint. "What are you supposed to be again?" 

Blair grinned. "I, my friend, I am 'A Whiter Shade of Pale'." 

Jim grinned back at him. "I've seen you without your shirt on, O Tanless Wonder. I don't think you need the make-up. You're probably the whitest boy in the whole anthropology department." 

Blair flipped Jim off. "Let's go, funny man, or we're going to be late." 

Jim nodded and started off down the stairs. "You know what the weirdest thing is, Chief?" 

Blair shook his head. Jim shrugged and said, "I'm actually looking forward to this party." 

Blair rubbed his hands together and cackled evilly. "Bwa ha ha! You have fallen into our wicked clutches! Soon you will be under our evil spell!" 

Jim shook his head. "You are _so_ weird, Sandburg." 

"No more than you, man. No more than you." 

**NOVEMBER**  
Blair eyed the bow tie with disgust. "Jiii-iiim!" he whined, flinging it on the bed. 

Jim looked at him in the mirror where he was perfectly tying his own bow tie. "I don't want to hear it, Chief! You're putting on the tuxedo, and you're going!" 

"Jim! Come on! A police awards banquet sponsored by the _NRA_? I can't go to that!" 

Jim turned around and leaned against the dresser, crossing his arms. "Really? And exactly how many bizzaro university parties have I gone to with you? Huh?" 

"But that's different! None of my parties went against your personal value system!" 

Jim raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What about the party your friend Barbara threw? The one where we watched 'Cops' and played that drinking game? You know, the one where when the cop tackled a suspect, we didn't even drink, because it was so common? You don't think I might have found that a little bit offensive?" 

Blair squirmed. "Oh, well, you know. . ." 

"And what about that prostitute thingy? You know, that what's-her-name, the redhead from the sociology department-" 

"Kathleen," Blair supplied. 

"Yeah, Kathleen! The one where she had former hookers come in and talk about how the cops had demanded 'freebies' from them! Like I thought _that_ was a good time!" 

Blair threw up his hands. "She was working on a grant! We were there as a show of support! There was free food!" 

Jim pointed a finger at Blair. "Exactly! That's it _exactly_!" 

"That's what, exactly?" 

Jim turned back to the mirror. "You're going to come as a show of support for me. And for Rafe and Henri and Joel. You don't want Joel to think you're ashamed of him, do you?" 

Blair crossed his arms. "Oh, that is low, man!" 

Jim shrugged. "Look at it this way. There's free food _and_ an open bar. So everything you eat and drink is one less dollar the NRA has to spend." 

Blair straightened up. "An open bar? Really?" 

Jim rolled his eyes. "Really, Sandburg." 

Blair coughed and looked at the floor. "Well, I guess it wouldn't kill me to go. Purely as a show of support, you understand. This doesn't mean I condone the NRA's agenda." 

Jim shook his head. "Way to make the ultimate sacrifice, Chief." He pointed a finger at Blair. "Now put on the fucking tie, and let's go!" 

Blair saluted. "Sir, yes Sir! Putting on tie now, Sir!" 

"Bite me." 

**DECEMBER**  
Jim raised an eyebrow at all the gifts under the tree. "I thought you were Jewish, Sandburg." 

Blair crawled out from under the tree holding two boxes. "Yeah, so?" 

"So? Your mom sent a lot of presents. _Christmas_ presents." 

'Ah. Well, that's Naomi in a nutshell." Blair passed a box to Jim, who shook it gently. Blair rolled his eyes. "Like you don't already know what's in there, Sentinel Boy." 

Jim shrugged. "Watch from my father." He threw the unopened box on the couch. "What do you mean, that's Naomi in a nutshell?" 

Blair looked at the box on the couch, and then at Jim, who looked stubborn. Blair sighed and went back under the tree, looking for another box. "Okay, so in her heart, Naomi's Jewish. Thus the tongue and the Bar Mitzvah and the circumcision." 

Jim winced. "TMI there, Chief." 

Blair waved a hand. "Spiritually, I think she's Buddhist. Shinto, or something," 

"Not pagan?" 

"No, she talks the talk, but she doesn't walk the walk, you know? Sage burning regardless." Blair scooted backwards, dragging a huge box. "But practically speaking? Anything that gets her a gift is a good thing." 

"Really? Naomi Sandburg, meditating, in tune with nature and herself, San Francisco flower child Naomi Sandburg is a, a-" 

"Materialist," Blair said, grinning. 

"Really?" 

"Really." Blair looked around and lowered his voice, as if afraid he would be overheard. "Want to know her deepest, darkest secret?" 

Jim lowered his voice as well. "Sure." 

Blair leaned in and whispered, "She has a Macy's gold card." 

Jim straightened up in shock. "No!" 

Blair just nodded. Jim blinked. "Well, you think you know someone. . ." He shook it off and reached for the large box. "This for me?" 

"It's for both of us." 

Jim opened the box, and looked inside, puzzled. "It's. . .sheets. Lots and lots of sheets." 

"Sheets?" 

"Blue sheets." 

"Oh." Blair looked puzzled at well. "Is there a card?" 

Jim nodded, opening it. "It's from Naomi. She says, 'Blue to match your eyes. You can never have too many sheets.'." Jim looked at Blair, and then back at the box. "Your family is really weird, Sandburg." 

Blair just looked at Jim. Jim coughed, ears reddening. "I'm just saying, I know from weird families, okay?" 

Blair stood up. "I'm going to get some eggnog." As he walked into the kitchen he muttered, "Talk about the pot calling the kettle black!" 

"I heard that!" Jim shouted. 

"Oh, I'm _so_ surprised!" 

**JANUARY**  
Jim stumbled into the front door, carrying three bags of groceries. Blair was sitting on the couch, holding a beer and staring off into space. Jim kicked the door shut with his foot. "Thanks for the help, Sandburg," he growled. 

"Sure, no problem, man," Blair said absently, taking a sip a beer. Jim shook his head and brought the bags into the kitchen. He started unpacking. "Hey, Sandburg! It's the _vanilla_ soy milk you like, not the plain, right?" 

"Yeah." 

"Good! I got the right stuff for once." He continued unpacking the groceries, and after a while, Blair got up and leaned against the kitchen table, watching him. 

"Jim? I ran into Annie today." 

"Yeah?" Jim frowned at the nori in his hand - did it need to be refrigerated? "Oh, fuck it, it's freeze-dried!" he said, throwing it in the cupboard. "Annie? Which Annie? Archeology or anthropology?" 

Blair frowned. "Neither. CLA Annie." 

"The mousy one?" 

"No, the blond one. The one who's always grabbing your ass." 

Jim smiled. "Oh, her I like." 

Blair crossed his arms. "How come you know all my Annies?" 

Jim started folding the grocery bags. "Well, I've been to more University functions than the damn Chancellor! I should hope I would know all your Annies." 

"See? See? That's the thing!" 

"That's what thing?" 

Blair began pacing in front of the table. "Annie invited us to her Super Bowl party." 

"Great!" Jim narrowed his eyes. "I'm not going to have to wear a necklace, am I?" 

Blair threw up his hands. "Those were Mardi Gras beads!" Jim made a 'whatever' gesture with his hand. 

Blair stopped pacing and poked Jim in the chest. "Forget about that! That's not the point!" 

"Oh?" 

"You don't understand! She didn't invite _me_ , she invited _us_!" 

"So?" 

"So? So she just expected that you would come with me!" 

Jim looked puzzled. "I'm not getting your point, Chief. I always go to those parties with you, so why _wouldn't_ she expect it?" 

Blair scrubbed his hands across his face. "Jim, she thinks we're a couple. Apparently the whole damn campus thinks we're a couple!" 

"A couple of whats?" 

"Jim! A, a couple couple! A together couple! A _couple_!" 

Jim leaned back against the counter and thought about it. After a minute, he shrugged and said, "Oh, well." 

Blair looked at him, arms waving wildly. " 'Oh well'? That's all you have to say?" 

Jim just shrugged again. Blair resumed pacing. "I don't believe this, man! How can you be so calm?" 

Jim crossed his arms. "I hate to break this to you, Chief, but we _are_ a couple." 

Blair stopped dead. "Oh, we are not." 

"Yeah, we are." 

"Jim-" 

"Blair!" Jim raised a hand to stop Blair from speaking. "Neither one of us have dated seriously for over a year, we take each other to our parties, we go shopping together, we cook together, I know what kind of soy milk you like, you know how to fold my underwear. For God's sake, Sandburg, you've sent cards to my father and signed them from me! We're a couple!" 

"But, but. . ." 

"But what, Sandburg?" 

"But we don't have sex!" 

Jim scratched his head. "Oh, well, that." He eyed Blair assessingly. "We could, I suppose. I'm not likely to get a better offer anytime soon." 

"I, um, what?" Blair stopped and shook his head, glaring at Jim. "What do you mean, 'I suppose' and 'better offer'?" He shook his finger in Jim's face. "I am NOT going to have sex with someone who's not enthusiastic about it!" 

Jim took a step away from the counter, looking interested. "So, you're saying you _want_ to have sex, then?" 

Blair took a step back. "Oh, hey now! That's not what I meant! I mean, well, you know-mmmph!" Blair was cut off mid-rant as Jim grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him in for a kiss. Blair's eyes widened as he felt Jim's tongue, hot and bold, slide into his open mouth. A burst of white-hot pleasure blew through him and he sighed, closing his eyes and leaning into Jim. 

They kissed, wetly and slowly and indulgently, passion building and pulsing between them. With one last lick across Blair's lower lip, Jim broke the kiss, and they stared at each other, breathing heated and quick, eyes wide. 

Blair raised a shaking hand to trail slowly down Jim's neck. "Wow." 

Jim grinned. "Wow?" 

"Wow." Blair took a deep breath and looked determined. "Jim, I need to go to the library. We're going to need some reference materials." 

Jim laughed and dropped his hand to Blair's groin, cupping his erection through his jeans. Blair moaned and pushed hard into Jim's hand. Jim laughed again and pushed Blair towards his room. "I think we'll manage." He tumbled Blair onto his bed and straddled him. "After all, we _are_ a couple." 

* * *

End Wither Thou Goest by Blankety: blankstreet@hotmail.com

Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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